


I Am A Stone

by LizzySledgeHammer



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzySledgeHammer/pseuds/LizzySledgeHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the current show's plot is averted by a sympathetic angel, and key lime pie.<br/>Trouble is that the change may not be fore the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love Me Some Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this some time ago, others have read it but not really beta-read so there might be some typos etc...  
> It's still being worked on, let me know if you like it and I'll work on it some more!
> 
> In true SPN style I took mythology and totally messed with it, so yes I know a lot of it is inaccurate, it's just for fun though so I hope you guys enjoy it.  
> ~kisses~

It should have been a normal day… or at least as normal as it could get for Dean Winchester.

But it wasn’t.

Instead, it was the weirdest day he’d ever had.

And funnily enough it had started out great.

It had started out with pancakes, coffee, bacon, and the _best_ key lime pie he’d ever tasted. Sam had been happy as well, Castiel having zapped said food right to the table in their motel room. The angel sat with them at the table watching them eat, his back to the open motel window, watching the lighthearted banter between brothers, the normally blank stare he had held a strange kind of calm serenity today, and it set Dean at ease. It was a nice change, considering that just last night he and Sam had had one of the worst verbal fights since… well… ever. The sunlight the poured into the room somehow didn’t reach the brothers, not blinding them while still lighting their meal,

      “I gotta say, Cas, this is friggin’ _awesome_.” Dean mumbled around a mouth full of bacon, tipping his head back to down the rest of his coffee while Sam nodded in agreement.

      “Yeah, thanks Cas.” Unlike Dean, Sam was taking his time eating, not shoveling it down as if it would disappear. Also unlike Dean, Sam seemed suddenly… suspicious, and Castiel easily noticed, “Not that I’m not grateful, but what’s with the breakfast in bed?” The angel didn’t seem offended, and if he was he didn’t show it, but Dean threw his brother an incredulous glare before stealing a strip of bacon from his plate.

      “I felt the anger from last night.” He said simply, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap, “Thought I’d help.”

In truth it had helped, Sam and Dean had been talking back and forth as if nothing had happened, and it may as well have been nothing anyway. They just had been trapped in the car for more than ten hours, which was nothing new, but it’d been too hot in the Impala, little sleep, next to no pit stops apart from pulling over to piss on the side of the road. Dean had tried to strike up conversation but a migraine had made Sam irritable, and the silence began to eat away at Dean’s nerves, eventually fueling the argument between them that had sent Dean out of the motel room into the chilly night. He honestly didn’t remember what had started it.

Castiel had found him then, of course, and had sat back patiently while Dean ranted and raved at no one in particular, the anger, distress, and discomfort bubbling over in a torrent of angry statements and gestures Dean didn’t mean. Then, exhausted, Dean had sat beside Castiel on the hood of the Impala, face in his hands as the man beside him remained silent, staring up at the moon.

      “Did you know the pagan goddess Hecate is actually another name for the Shekin?”

      “The what?” Dean had glanced up, slightly annoyed and confused,

      “The female aspect of creation. The Holy Spirit.” He motioned towards the moon, “Birth, death, ruler of the earth sea and skies… in a manner of speaking. If He is our Father, She is undoubtedly our Mother. She gave us the Grace we use, the Wings you find so helpful.”

      “So why doesn’t she come out and do something about this?” Dean asked, “She doesn’t give a crap either?” Castiel shook his head,

      “She used to be Queen of the Crossroads,” Castiel had said, “you gave yourself unto heaven or the worship of the Earth as a priest or priestess in return for a beneficial favor, something that would benefit mankind, not hurt them. Then… Lucifer began to hand out deals more readily, making it easier to get whatever you wanted at the price of a single soul.”

      “So she just up and left?”

      “No…” Castiel seemed sad all of a sudden, “She was betrayed. Shekin met a mortal who convinced her to tear out her grace. He betrayed her to Lucifer, who sealed the grace away, making her powerless. In return, the mortal got his wish, and became a demon after death.”

      “I don’t get it.” Dean grumbled, “All powerful and she tears out her grace? And for _what_?”

      “She fell in love, Dean.” Castiel’s gaze fell to the ground, “She made a connection with another being after being alone for so long.” Castiel made a furtive glance over at Dean, “…I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

      “Why’d you tell me this?”

      “Dean… My family is tearing each other apart around me,” Castiel there was an unbridled sadness in Castiel’s tone, Dean was certain he saw tears in his eyes, “If she had been here, none of this would be happening. If it were up to her your mother would be alive, you brother wouldn’t have been burdened… Sam is the only family you have left.”

      “…Okay Cas. I get it.” Dean sighed, “I’ll go easy on Sasquatch tomorrow morning.” Castiel was facing him now,

      “Don’t let a hot car, and a headache destroy what the two of you have. Because I couldn’t bear to watch if the two of you lost one another.” Castiel swallowed hard, Dean slowly nodded, “She’d weep for it. Please.”

      “Okay Cas.”

It was the first time Dean felt that strange tingling in his body, when he’d glanced over at the nerdy angel, the kinship he felt before strengthening as impossibly blue eyes went back up towards the sky, towards the pearly white moon. Without thinking, Dean shifted, laying a comforting hand upon Cas’s shoulder. They’d shared a silence that could only be described as peaceful, uninterrupted in the chilly night, and the two of them gazed up at the clear sky.

Now, the same eyes stared down at the table, Sam’s suspicious look faded, and Dean relaxed in his chair,

      “Yeah… thanks.” It seemed sincere, so Dean let it slide, and immediately felt stupid for feeling the need to protect the war hardened and ancient angel of the Lord.

Though… lately Cas seemed the most vulnerable of the three of them. His father was gone, didn’t care, and Dean’s recently acquired knowledge that the ‘Shekin’, or the creature that qualified as his mother, was gone as well…

Castiel could pretend that he was feeling better as much as he wanted, Dean and Sam had seen him so distraught that he’d consumed most of the contents of a Liquor store just to feel slightly inebriated. He was devastated beyond pain, though the boys could relate to that kind of loss. Castiel had avoided showing any kind emotion after that… until that night, when Dean could practically feel the sadness flowing from him in waves.

He hadn’t told Sam yet, and internally was angry at himself for feeling special at being the only one Cas had given that information. It felt personal, it _was_ personal, he knew that Castiel would not have divulged anything about his ‘mother’ had it not been important.

But Dean had little time to think of it that day, they had a job to attend to, and Castiel had decided to stick around for this particular endeavor. He’d mentioned something in a mumbled tone about feeling something with a holy aura, but when Dean asked him about it again he simply told him that it wasn’t something to be concerned about, that he’d handle it.

How wrong he was.

No sooner had the trio entered the old Mill town, an eerie silence fell over the street. There were no people walking the sidewalks, no cars rolling down the road, even the stoplight had decided to cease its blinking and wave gently in the cold winds that were blowing through the town. The presence of something… _strange_ hung heavily over the town, Dean and Sam instantly drawing out the weapons they’d hoped they didn’t have to use.

It was just supposed to be a few missing teenagers in a haunted house on a hill.

It was _not_ supposed to be an entire ghost town, practically saturated by something the felt remarkably like the sadness Dean had felt in Castiel the night before… which was strange enough as it was. Dean had chalked it up to some kind of angelic mojo that let Castiel display his emotions more readily but now he wondered if the item in question, the one with the ‘holy aura’, had something to do with it.

      “This way.” When Castiel strode ahead of them, motioning them to follow with a small wave of his hand, Dean knew he was right.

It only took a few paces to smell the familiar stench of decomposition and death, but Castiel didn’t turn, didn’t stop his gate, he just kept walking down the clear street, the whole town silent apart from their footfalls. The color of the sky matched the vibration of the town, heavy, gray, the air heavy with humidity, threatening to rain on the empty streets.

      “What the hell would kill an entire town -”

      “The Empusae.” Castiel didn’t turn, though Sam let out a low groan in his throat, “I knew I recognized this aura, though I admit I hadn’t anticipated that they’d do… something like _this_.”

      “Me either.” Sam grunted, Dean rolled his eyes,

      “What the hell is an Empusae?” the elder Winchester asked, getting a look of apology from his younger brother. “What is that? A witch? A Siren?”

      “Daughters of Hecate.” Castiel said, still continuing his pace forwards, “That strange heaviness you feel is their constant state of mourning for their mother, and for all the sisters and priests they lost to Lucifer… They weep for their family.”

      “How’d they get here?” Sam asked, they were passing a diner, they’d already crossed a school crosswalk, and they were about to cross past a small Baptist church with peeling yellow paint. It was a small town, with houses lining the streets leading off the main road, a bar here, a small hardware store there, nothing special or out of the ordinary… But Dean had learned all too quickly that ‘ordinary’ towns often had deeper and darker secrets.

      “It’s hard to say. A priest or priestess could have brought them here, or they could simply be here of their own volition.”

      “So, what, they carved up the town? There’s no bodies in the streets, no blood anywhere-”

      “No.” Castiel shook his head, “The grief, they spread it over the people in the town, and eventually they all gave themselves as sacrifice to them to end their pain. It’s the Empusae’s way.”

      “And they just all… ended it?” the younger brother felt his stomach turn slightly as Castiel nodded,

      “I’m afraid so.” He pointed ahead, towards the far end of the main street running through the town, “There.”

Sam and Dean’s pace quickened as the angel began to sprint without warning, towards the end of the street shaded by towering oaks, towards the large house hidden behind a wrought iron fence and with boarded windows, tucked away behind gnarled trees and twisted vines.

Of course it was the house they’d come to investigate in the first place.

It looked like the typical haunted house you’d seen in a movie, all gray and crumbling, the paint peeling and windows cracked, but Cas still darted towards it, darting effortlessly around the one or two cars that had parked in the street. He was moving faster than Dean had ever seen, because for the most part when Castiel had wanted to move quickly he’d used his mojo to shift himself from place to place.

Still, even without using his power, he ran fast enough that his coat fluttered up behind him, and he vaulted forwards over the looming black wrought iron fence, landing on his feet in the overgrown grass. He turned and glanced at them expectantly, waiting, and Dean and Sam had to admit they were a tad envious of their associate’s graceful landing.

Because theirs was far from graceful.

Sam paused in front of the fence hopping up easily and beginning to heave himself upwards, specks of rust and dirt coming off under his hands. He felt the fence lurch forwards as Dean launched himself upwards, yanking himself over the top with ease, grinning at his brother’s slight strain… until his left pant leg caught on the jagged top of the fence. He let out a small wheeze of surprise before Sam had already fumbled in his grip and tumbled over the other side.

When Sam had lifted himself off of Dean, and when Dean managed to spit out the clumps dead grass, Castiel easily made his way to the front door. It took Sam’s large hand on his shoulder, and a strong yank backwards to stop him from kicking in the boarded up door.

      “Cas _wait_.” Sam released Castiel’s shoulder in time for Dean to catch up with them, still spitting up bits of dirt and picking roots out of his teeth, “What exactly should we expect here? I mean we don’t even know if we have the right weapons to take these things down!”

      “You do have the right weapon.” Castiel stated flatly,

      “Which is what?” Dean waved his pistol in his face, “Salt? Iron rounds? You know a hell of a lot more about these things than we do, what’re we dealing with here?”

      “Nothing.” Castiel said in a low voice, the tone sending a shiver up Dean’s spine, “They are nothing… any yet they are everything. They aren’t demons, they are angelic without grace, unseen by our Father. They don’t feel fear, they only feel despair. You have the tool to kill them before they spread to another town or city.”

      “Oh yeah? And what’s that, pointdexter?” Dean snorted. Castiel’s head tipped ever so slightly, eyes fixed upon Dean’s face as the older brother’s sneer faded.

      “Me.”

The plywood covering the front door suddenly cracked, splitting up the middle before being dragged into the musty house. The three of them didn’t move as the dust settled, the younger Winchester’s brow furrowing in slightly paranoia, his fists clenching as his older brother let out a low and calming breath.

      “They know we’re coming?” Sam asked,

      “We haven’t exactly been _discreet_.” The angel said coolly, continuing his pace into the darkened home. Dean took a moment to swallow down the sudden unease rising in his throat,

      “Cas _don’t_.” Sam hadn’t moved from where he was, Cas pausing just beyond the doorway, “This presence leads you right to this house? The door busts itself open just to have us in there? It’s obviously a trap!” Dean bit his lower lip as Castiel wordlessly turned, and continued onwards, disappearing from sight. Sam let out an indignant grunt as Dean suddenly brushed past him, following Castiel, “Dean!” His brother paused,

      “What?”

      “What part about _trap_ do you not understand?”

      “The part where he just went in alone and could get caught in it. Besides,” Dean began to walk backwards through the doorway, “If he does walk into a surprise attack, I wanna ask him where he got the key lime pie before he bites it.”

      “So you’re going to walk right through the front door? For _pie?_ ”

      “Already did. See, I’m kinda in the house already.” Dean jabbed his thumb behind him, motioning towards the darkness behind him, “And if you don’t like the front door, just go around the back!”

After tripping up on the moth eaten rug, Dean found Castiel standing close by in the empty living room, staring upwards at the dirty yellowing ceiling. Sam slunk quietly through the battered archway, hovering anxiously in the doorway to the kitchen as Castiel turned ever so slightly, facing Dean.

There was a strange heat around the Angel, like the air around him was rippling, nearly shimmering with an unseen energy. It wasn’t the first time Dean had seen this, he’d always seen a weird little ripple around Cas whenever he decided to bamf out, but this was the first time he’d actually _felt_ the heat of his energy. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his cheeks flush, and his fingers twitch, and felt like a small electrical charge with shooting through every nerve in his body.

googIt was, honestly, one of the weirdest things Dean had ever felt, the strange tingling flush in his cheeks shooting everywhere from his ears to the tips of his toes.

      “It’s… not here anymore.” The gruff sound of disappointment from the angel’s mouth brought him out of his daze.

      “What isn’t?”

      “The aura. The sadness.” Cas shook his head, his arms lifting from his sides, fingers splayed, almost as if he were trying to feel the cool air. His eyes slid shut as his fingers curled, and when they opened again they contained genuine puzzlement, his arms lowering. “I… don’t know where it could have gone.”

      “I think it’s a little strange,” Dean lowered his voice, Sam unable to hear him as he spoke to Castiel, “That you mention your mom just last night, and all of a sudden all your pissed off sisters are telling people to off themselves.”

      “They’re not my sisters.” Castiel corrected, then frowned, “Not entirely, anyway.”

      “Well, whatever the hell they are, you hinted last night that you knew what was goin’ on.” Castiel’s eyes turned upwards, locking with Dean’s, “Anything else I should know?”

Cas’s gaze didn’t lessen in intensity, Dean wasn’t sure if the angel felt frustration or confusion more, but whatever it was it fueled a long stare into Dean’s eyes. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Castiel turned his back on Dean, slowly making his way across the creaking floorboards in the living room, the stained wood kicking up dust as it cracked and settled.

      “I didn’t know it was them… but this sensation, this _sadness_ , I felt it last night… I thought it was my own.” Castiel shook his head, “I didn’t know that it didn’t belong to me. I’m… not feeling like myself.”

That strange tingling increased for Dean, his eyes burning ever so slightly as the Angel reached the window on the far side of the mansions spacious living room. The bright light from the cloudy sky outside no longer glared in Dean’s eyes, it was suddenly blocked by Castiel’s body… though he barely covered up more than half of the ornately carved bay window.

A flash of glossy black in front of his face startled Dean, a small noise of surprise leaving his throat as the object vanished from sight, but he’d felt something brush against his nose and lips before receding back into nothingness.

What the hell was _that?_

Were those… _feathers?_

But the air in front of him remained empty no matter how he squinted, his silence prompting the angel to turn and glance back at him.

      “Yeah, well, I know how that feels…” He recovered, glancing away from Castiel’s curious gaze, Sam still hovering out in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, out of sight, rustling with something on a dusty bookshelf. “Let’s check out the rest of the house, Sammy.”

      “Fine,” the taller man said, “I’ll check out this floor, why don’t you check the basement and Cas’ll go upstairs?”

      “Sounds good to me.”

      “It’s no use.” Cas said forlornly, “I don’t feel them here.”

      “Well maybe they have some angel blockin’ mojo or something, you felt it before, right?” Dean asked, Castiel nodded, “Can’t hurt to check, can it?”

      “Right…” Castiel didn’t move as Sam moved back into the kitchen, instead shuffling on the dusty floor, turning to watch Dean step out of the room, “Dean? Wait.” Dean paused, ducking back into the room briefly, “I swear I didn’t know they would be here.”

      “I believe you.” And he did, which was new for him, but he knew Cas was being honest, he could just… tell. It was weird, Dean couldn’t get a good read on the angel at the best of times, and now he could read him… no, scratch that, _feel him_ like heat from a fire, or the chill from a cool rainy day.

It was empowering to know he could finally read Castiel’s poker face, and oddly nerve wracking because he knew that he was merely being allowed to do so. But _why_?

      “They’re dangerous Dean, even to me. I think I should get you and your brother out –”

      “No way in hell we’re leavin’ you here to deal with these psycho bitches alone, Cas. So just forget it.” Dean was already plodding away again, kicking up dust, dirt, and making the floorboards complain under his weight.

He had barely turned the corner when the otherwise ‘normal’ day took a turn for the worst.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, he felt the warped and creaking floor give out beneath his feet, a deafening ‘crack’ shot through the house, nearly drowning out Dean’s shout of surprise. He was scrambling for a hand hold, groping for the edge of hole that was suddenly created beneath him, and got nothing but a cut on his right palm from a jagged shard of wood.

He fell, the anticipation of hitting the ground somehow made more intense by the dust and dirt clouding his vision. Blind, Dean Winchester plummeted down, slamming downwards to the floor below. But his journey didn’t end there, no sooner as he felt the cool air of the basement and smelled old wood and mold, he felt the ground beneath him crack again, and he scrambled to find purchase on the hard concrete floor around him. The wooden trap door collapsed beneath his weight before he could get a grip strong enough to hold him, and he let out another low yelp as he tumbled downwards in the small space, smacking back and forth between walls, his hand smashing painfully into an old ladder jutting out of the wall.

He landed face down, the wind knocked out of him as bits of dirt and plaster rained down on his head, dust settling around him. He wheezed, trying to remember how to breathe as he rolled to his side, his head spinning and his ribs aching, and his right hand hurt like a _bitch_ …

Well. That was fun.

      “Dean?!” They’d been dull and muffled echoes at first, but now that Dean more or less had his wits about him he was able to distinguish Sam’s concerned yells from two floors above.

      “ _Dean!_ ” And there was Cas, as the air cleared he saw them peering into the hole he had created, the beam of a flashlight making its way down to him. He coughed lightly, unable to respond as the air had yet to return to his lungs. There was a faint fluttering, and he saw Castiel shifting, dropping himself down after Dean, trench coat fluttering in the air around him as he fell. He easily caught himself on the basement floor before dropping down again, his feet slamming onto the dirt covered rock beside Dean’s head.

      “Is he alright?!” The light from Sam’s flashlight didn’t shift away, blocked suddenly but Castiel’s face hovering above his own. He felt the angel’s breath on his forehead, as his eyes adjusted he saw Castiel’s blue ones searching his face, his body, everywhere for injury.

And damn it all, Dean saw that wide and soft flash of black behind Cas again, but it disappeared just as quickly as last time. Castiel glanced quickly behind, curious as to why Dean was enamored with the air behind him, but found nothing of interest.

      “M'okay…” Dean mumbled, Castiel’s hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him gently up into a sitting position,

      “He’s alright Sam.” Castiel’s voice carried upwards, prompting Sam to leave his perch beside the hole and rush down the basement stairs, and towards the broken trap door Dean had smashed through. The ladder leading downwards was rotten and old, Sam nearly snapped it into pieces as he made his way down towards the two, Cas’s long fingers grasped Dean’s right hand, making the hunter twitch, “Broken.”

      “Gee, y’think?” Dean grunted, before letting out a small yelp as the bones reset themselves, clicking and snapping back into place at the angel’s touch. Dean shifted uncomfortably as Cas stayed standing above him, blue eyes widening as he glanced around the small space they had ended up in. It was a corridor, about five feet high by four feet wide, Sam and Castiel ducking their heads to fit into the dark channel properly.

      “There’s sigils on the wood.” Sam was examining the smashed trapdoor, “Looks like Enochian.” He picked up the moldy wood, it crumbled in his fingers, “Keeping something in, maybe? Think it pulled Dean through the floor?” Sam’s brow furrowed as he peered closer at the dust on his fingers, dropping the chunk of wood, gently touching the tip of a finger to his tongue. “…Salt coated.” He stood straight, accidentally whacking his head on the ceiling before bowing down again, “Whatever is down here sure wasn’t getting out.”

      “It’s… making it hard for me to use my Grace.” Cas said, staring contemplatively at his hands, “I can’t heal the rest of Dean’s injuries… The two of you need to leave.”

      “No.” Dean’s voice was ragged, but he seemed adamant despite his younger brother’s death glare, “ _No_. You’re not stayin’ alone when your mojo’s all fucked up. _We stay_.”

      “He’s got a point Cas.” Sam’s gaze left his brother and went back to Castiel, he crouched beside his brother, “You can’t be here alone, you need backup. Besides, if they were actually still here, wouldn’t they be tearing us to bits by now?”

      “Sam.” Castiel’s voice was suddenly urgent, his face hidden to Dean in the darkness, “ _Take Dean, **get out**_.”

      “What? No!” Indignant and a little put off, Dean glanced up at the angel, who was looking at him again. It was a look of confusion and, Dean was terrified to see, near _panic_.

      “I can feel them again.” Cas said shortly, “Dean, _they’re still here_.”

Then the real weirdness started.

Dean suddenly felt hands gripping the back of his jacket, dragging him back to his left, into the dark. For a brief moment he lost sight of them, Sam’s flashlight beam going dim as he was pulled completely back. He flailed, trying to get a grip on something, _anything_ to keep him from being dragged further backwards, but his fingers only met smooth stone and mud, which was squishing into the collar of his shirt, soaking into his pants. He heard Castiel calling his name, a look of utmost frustration on his face when he began to charge forwards after Dean, Sam on his heels.

And then… for a little while…

It was _really_ strange, the darkness around him blanketing him completely, like a thick sheet that covered his face and body, blocking all light, all sound from him. He couldn’t even feel the ache in his limbs, or the mud in his clothes. In fact, if it weren’t for the anxiety and fear of not knowing where he was being dragged too, it might have actually been comfortable.

Though, the cold hand on his neck wasn’t so comfortable. And neither was being flung to the ground like a ragdoll. If he hadn’t broken something before, Dean was certain something was now. Dean, head still spinning and his eyes straining to see in the darkened space, looked up above him.

Two glowing yellow eyes greeted him.

      “ _Meat._ ”

Holy _crap_ she sounded pissed, Dean was certain he didn’t want to find out why. The room, he realized, was saturated with the same heavy sadness, that same chill, that he had felt before in town. He could still hear Sam and Castiel hurrying forwards, calling his name, so he must not have gone far…

      “ _He is meat._ ”

      “ _Tear his flesh_.”

      “ _Eat his eyes_.”

Holy _shitballs_ they were all around him. _They were everywhere_. He saw multiple pairs of glowing yellow eyes darting around the room, and when he tried to get to his feet, he was easily struck back down again. Dean, aching all over, coughed painfully, feeling something wet and pungent leak from his mouth.

      “ _He bleeds and does not heal. He is no angel._ ”

      “ _He hasn’t said ‘yes’._ ”

And, shit again, they knew who he was. They’d done their homework and that couldn’t be good news.

      “ _He brings another angel here._ ”

      “ _Castiel._ ” A breath hit his left ear, and he jolted away from it, “ _He mourns just as we do_ …”

      “ _He rebelled._ ” A louder voice proclaimed, “ _He is coming, we don’t have time for this_.” The hand was back at his throat, and he was lifted into the air, his muscles feeling limp and tingly, he had no control over them, “ _Where is she?_ ”

      “Wow, musta really needed help to pull a guy down through the floor–”

      “ ** _Where_** _?!_ ”

Light finally appeared before Dean, bright lights, it came from her eyes, her mouth, underneath her fingernails, even her skin seemed to have a strange luminescent quality. Her hair stood from her head as if she were submerged in water, flowing like an untamed black halo around her head. If it hadn’t been for the snarl etched into her features, she might have been beautiful. She was identical to the women skulking around her, and she was immensely tall, taller than Sam, her gray skin was pulled tightly over her frame, her body seemed translucent like a blanket of smoke and mist. Her cold fingers tightened around his neck

      “I… don’t know… who –” His hands twitched lightly as he tried to reach the back of his pants, feeling the knife tucked into its sheath jabbing into his lower back.

      “ _You know. You know of our mother, She who was born with God._ ” The grip got tighter, and if it was possible to channel rage into a motion, Dean could feel hers as her fingernails dug into his skin. “ _And you know the Traitor as well._ ”

      “ _Dean!_ ” Castiel’s voice was still a ways off, but getting closer, Dean’s fingers brushed underneath the back of his shirt, and his forefinger managed to curl around the grip.

      ‘ _Why doesn’t he just use his mojo and get us the hell out of here?!_ ’ Dean’s thoughts began to scramble, his lungs burning as she finally relented and released some pressure off of his neck.

Glowing yellow eyes pressed close to his face, brighter than the other creatures in the dark and dank room, far brighter than anything Dean had ever seen before, and he found himself having to look away. He hadn’t seen anything that bright since Anna’s grace, that had made his eyes throb for days afterwards.

      “ ** _Dean! Hold on! We’re coming!_** ” Judging by the footsteps and ‘thunks’ against a door unseen in the dark, Sam had found them. Dean immediately froze, hearing rustling and crooning around him, scratching and biting at his clothes. Sam couldn’t save him from this, not without being overwhelmed.

      “Don’t!” Dean heard the slamming against the soft wood cease, “Too many! Stay out!” He was shaken brutally at that point, and lifted, slamming down into the cold floor again.

Dean felt three distinct cracks, pain shot through his body, and he knew three more ribs had snapped in his chest.

      “ _Your Angel cannot save you, not while I live._ ” Her mouth glowed with an unearthly bright light, one that seemed to pulse and glitter inside of her, faint tendrils of the glow snaked out of her, almost as if she couldn’t contain it. It rippled and cast heat, it was white hot on Dean’s skin… it felt the same as Castiel’s Grace. “ _If you cannot tell me where she is,_ ” She gnashed her teeth together angrily, “ _Then I will get your brother to do it instead_.”

      ‘ _You did **not** just threaten my brother you smoky **bitch**_.’

      “Guess… I’ll just…” Dean’s fingers finally were able to wrap around the knife’s grip, and he yanked it from its hiding place, “Have to _kill_ you.”

His quick motion coincided with the loud ‘crash’ that came from the unseen door, Castiel’s entrance blocked by the body in front of Dean, who now squirmed on the silver blade with a pained gasp. The scream of rage she gave lit the whole room, and the cluster of Empusae that had gathered around Dean suddenly went wild, diving in towards the human man as their larger sister fell back slightly. Her glow became brighter, her shrieks indescribable, the bright light seemed to leak out of her like molten steel, dripping onto his body and burning his skin.

Her other hand, covered in her own deep red blood, clutched at his chin, and the seeping mess coming out of her body was suddenly drooling from her mouth onto his face, smearing and dripping into his mouth and nose, a few burning drops made it into his eyes. Dean was blinded, shouting in pain, Castiel’s voice a far off whisper.

      “ _Take the burden._ ” Her low voice was barely heard by the hunter, the glare of light around her brightened further and further, aggravating her sisters in their violent frenzy, “ _To be light… is to be **chained**._ ”

Heat. An impossibly bright pressure and heat. Dean felt his body arch away from the ground, a hollow gasp for air left him as he groped outwards, trying to push her away. It was like breathing fire like having molten lava shoved down his throat and up his nose, shooting through his veins and blinding him with unrelenting light.

But Dean didn’t let go of the knife, he held on even as he was being torn at, twisting it cruelly even as Castiel charged forwards with a loud snarl, grabbing the woman holding Dean by the hair. He yanked her downwards, batting away the chaotic flock surging around he and Dean, slamming her head down upon the cold ground.

The light vanished, but Dean’s eyes still burned, his body still bruised, and broken. Every nerve felt burnt and raw.

Dean felt himself hit the ground, his fingers slipping off the handle of the blade as he fell, his head spinning, heart racing feeling blood pooling in his mouth, as he felt himself tugged and called at, the dozen or so screeching Empusae still swirling and circling above him.

      “ ** _Dean!_** ” Castiel’s voice was right in his ears, his face hovering above his own, the clusters of angry snarls and the feeling the Empusae tearing at him vanished,

      “S-Sam…”

      “He’s fine, Dean. He’s on his way.” Castiel suddenly lout a pained huff, and a faint splatter of something warm hit Dean’s face. Castiel was leaning over Dean, something above the two of them blocked the Empusae from getting to the wounded hunter, but as Castiel’s face contorted with agony he reached out above him, towards the things hovering behind the angel and shielding him.

His fingers were suddenly buried in soft feathers, and while the powerful wings above him were shielding them now, he felt them jerking and twitching, coinciding with every pained gasp that Castiel made.

Castiel was huddled above him, shielding him from the angry swarm, his wings being torn and shredded, Dean felt feathers and blood hitting his body, until finally Castiel gave a loud scream of anguish. He jerked backwards, several of the Empusae gripping the great wingspan and pulling back, only to be brutally shaken off by a great flapping of said wings, and Castiel gripped Dean tighter, pulling the wounded appendages closer to his body.

Suddenly, the screaming and shrieks raised in pitch, the great confusion and chaos above suddenly halted,

      “ _Ecce facium,_ ” The room lit up with the light of Sam’s flashlight, causing the shrieking wretches to scatter away from it, “ _Et figuran ejus per guem omnia_ –” Sam paused and let out a yelp as one of the wailing beasts took a swipe at him, ducking back beyond the door. “Son of a _bitch! Cas! You alright?!_ ”

      “Sam!” Castiel was being pulled back and forth, feathers still flying, his voice stretched from pain, “ _Hurry!_ ”

      “ _Guem omnia facet el eui omnes_ ,” Sam’s voice deepened, growing louder as he edged towards the other two men, his movements no longer hesitant as he saw the angel crouching protectively over his brother, “ _Obediunt creature! Away! In the name of El Shaddai **away**!_ ”

The swirling and violent darkness in the room was suddenly stilled, Sam’s flashlight darting around the now empty stone cell as Castiel let out a low breath of relief, slumping downwards with a moan of agony on top of Dean. Dean didn’t appreciate the added weight on his beaten body, head spinning as the burning the Empusae had inflicted on him suddenly spike, his vision whiting out in a fuzzy jolt of pain.

      “Dean?” Cas’s head lifted, and Dean felt his cool fingers on his cheeks, he started as Dean’s fingers, still fisted in soft feathers, squeezed harder, reminding him of the hunter’s discovery. He was unable to pry Dean’s fingers away as the elder brother’s eyes rolled back into his head, “Can you hear me?”

      “Ngh…” His whole body felt like it was on fire, moving and talking were too painful to consider. Dean felt his throat convulse, and he coughed, splattering the face of the Angel with blood, choking on it slightly as Cas wordlessly wiped it from his eyes.

      “Stay awake.” Dean’s eyes lids felt so heavy, and with the bright and burning sensation still jolting its way through his body he felt no urge to comply with the angel’s wishes. Dean’s body slumped backwards, his fingers finally releasing Castiel’s now battered wings as Sam skidded on the dirt covered floor beside them. Panic was easily seen in the younger Winchester, Castiel managed to move through his pain, wincing and hissing out agony as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder,

      “Sam.” His voice got Sam’s attention, thankfully, “We have to go. The banishment won’t last.” He growled out of pain as he shifted to his feet, “Call Bobby, see if he has any friends in this area.”

      “What, can’t _you_ fix this?!” Sam asked incredulously,

      “No… This house… something is wrong. Whatever was keeping the Empusae in, is making it impossible for me to use my Grace.”

      “Then have to get Dean to a hospital!”

            “Sam, we _can’t_.” Castiel stooped, pulling Dean towards him, draping the unconscious hunter over his right shoulder. He made it seem as if the muscled and heavy frame of Dean Winchester weighed more than a pillow, “The Empusae are _free_. They’ll be looking for me, for _Dean_. We need someone who can help us defend ourselves, someone we can _trust_.” His gate was fast down the dark channel they had come from, “I’ll do my best when we get outside of the house, but we have to hurry, _call Bobby **now**_.”


	2. Thurson and MacLeod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... Not ALL of their friends are dead.

It was slow today.

And, by slow, he meant _empty_.

Sometimes he even wondered why Sophie kept the place open, when the people in the town were too afraid to be seen near it, let alone entering it. There was always an influx of appointments for people having their cards read, or concerns about haunting and possession, but no one in the little town would openly thank Sophie McLeod and Sacha Thurson for all the problems they had solved.

The phone rang on the desk beside him, and though he didn’t feel like talking to anyone due to the pains in his back and arms, he answered out of habit,

      “Selene’s Arms, this is Sacha.” The name wasn’t his idea, Sophie had come up with it and it wasn’t goofy or girly sounding, so he hadn’t objected.

      “ _Where’s Sophie_?” He was used to a curt greeting, he expected it most of the time because between he and Sophie, he was the more unpleasant of the two.

      “Ah, _Ethel_. How you been?” He leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up and resting his boots on the neatly organized packs of paper and envelopes. “Been a while. About… three weeks, right?”

      “ _I don’t want to hear it, Thurson._ ”

      “Oh _yeah_ , I remember…” the words were bitter on his tongue, a scowl decorating his features even when no one was there to see it. “Same night you publicly _humiliated_ Sophie, in front of everyone in the town hall, right?”

      “ _Where’s Sophia_?”

      “Her name is _Sophiel_ , she’s not here,” he heard the woman on the phone swallow loudly at the dark tone in his voice, “And if she were, she wouldn’t want to talk to _you_.”

      “ _I need help_.”

      “Go to someone else, I don’t care. She sure as shit won’t read your cards or tea leaves after the stunt you pulled.”

      “ _This isn’t about card readings or herbal supplements, I need to talk to her about her… other expertise_.”

 _Oh_. Well then.

      “I _still_ don’t care.” The dark office seemed to shake with the hate in his voice

      “ _Look, just take a message for her–_ ”

      “I don’t take messages. I also don’t help out ignorant cunts who insult and embarrass my friend.”

      “ _I can pay._ ”

      “I don’t want money, you crusty cow.” His voice took on a dangerous edge,

      “ ** _Just tell her I need help_** _._ ”

      “With _what?_ What problem could you possibly need help with, _with Jesus on your side_?” He pulled the quote from memory, a very bitter and anger filled memory.

      “ _My son, Ethan, he always talks about his invisible friend Howard._ ”

      “So? All little kids have one of those at one point.”

      “ _I just **saw** Howard._” The line went silent for a moment, Sacha running a hand back over his clean shaven head,“ _He’s not… as imaginary as I thought. Please. I’ll pay. I’ll do anything. Just **don’t let it hurt my son.**_ ”

      “You want help?” Sacha felt his hand getting sweaty at how tightly he was holding the cordless phone, “I want Sophie feeling better.”

      “ _So what do you want?_ ”

      “Next town meeting, I want a full on public apology.” He relaxed back into his chair, “You don’t do it, we don’t help.”

      “ _The meeting is next week! I can’t wait that long!_ ”

      “Oh, she’ll get rid of Howard for you. Then I’ll be there at the meeting to make sure you hold up your end, otherwise I’ll put something _even worse_ under your boy’s bed.”

      “ _Sophie wouldn’t let you –_ ”

      “Sophie won’t know. And trust me when I say this, your apology will be genuine after she’s done.”

Then he hung up. He was content to wait an hour or two for Sophie to return from her supply and make Ethel sweat, but the phone ringing again immediately told him otherwise. A clenching in his gut told him instinctively that his night was about to get a bit more busy.

He just didn’t know how much.

      “Selene’s Arms, this is –”

      “ _Sacha, thank Christ yer there_.”

      “Bobby?” Sacha bolted upright in his chair, his boot clunking loudly as he rested his feet on the floor, “Shit, is that you? Been a while.” Ten years, six days, three hours and ten minutes…

      “ _No time for catchin’ up, Sach. I got my boys headin’ yer way,_ ” Bobby’s worried tone didn’t help Sacha’s already frayed nerves, “ _One of em’ hurt bad_. _Got somethin’ followin’ em and they don’t feel safe goin’ to a hospital. Think you can handle it?_ ”

      “You know I can. Who’re you sending my way? Rufus?”

      “ _Dean and Sam._ ”

      “Jesus, what’d they do now? Last I heard they unleashed hell. _Literally_.”

      “ _You’re the only one nearby that I trust with em’, they got a friend with em’ who’s… different._ ”

      “Different? Different _how_?”

      “ _He’s kinda… an Angel._ ”

Sacha’s stomach dropped, a cold sweat forming on his skin as he bolted out of his chair, the motion knocking the seat back, and it slammed loudly into the floor.

      “Are… are you fucking _kidding me_? An _Angel? An **Angel?!**_ ”

      “ _He’s got a bit of a stick up his ass, but he’s good_.”

      “Doesn’t matter. He’s not getting in.”

      “ _Don’t be like that, Sach, he’s one of the good guys –_ ”

      “No.” Sacha growled, “I mean, he’s literally _not getting in._ The place is covered in Enochian sigils. He has to wait outside until I’m done working on… who’s the one hurt?”

      “ _Dean._ ”

      “Jesus, I haven’t seen them since they were kids, and now they’re being sent all bloody and beaten to me… Christ what happened to people just stopping in the visit because they _miss me_?”

      “ _The state Dean’s in? They’ll be there fer a while. The safehouse still ready to go?_ ”

      “Sophie always keeps it ready, so yeah. How long until they get here?” He was already clomping down the attic stairs, hurrying towards the rear of the shop, past shelves crammed with herbal remedies, salt rounds, bottles of holy water, rosaries…

      “ _They were ten minutes from you last I checked in, the Angel is keepin Dean alive but somethin’ is wrong with his mojo. He can’t fully heal the kid, he needs help stitchin’ him up, so you better get Sam breakin’ those sigils while you work._ ”

      Fuck.

      “Fine, fine… Hey,” Sacha swallowed hard, pausing just beyond the back door, hearing it slam shut behind him, “Bobby?”

      “ _What?_ ”

      “The Angel.” Sacha gritted his teeth, “Which one is it? …What’s his name?”

      “ _Oh. His name is Cas. Castiel._ ”

      Of-fucking-course.

No sooner had Bobby uttered the words, the sound of a growling engine echoed in the small back alley, Sacha would have marveled at the pristine Impala pulling in front of him, but was more alarmed at the sight of the man in the backseat.

      That… was a _lot_ of blood.

      “Bobby, I got em’. I’ll call you back.” He was quick to get to the driver side door, watching Sam leap out and slam it shut, “Sam, get him inside, and tell your… ‘friend’ he can’t come in.”

      “What?” Sam froze as the slim older man stepped down off the back porch, rushing towards the still purring car.

      “Sigils.” he tossed Sam the cordless phone before pulling the backseat door open, leaning into the back. Dean felt heavier than he should have, and he was breathing, which was a surprise considering how much blood he was coughing up, and he easily draped the wounded hunter over his shoulder, leaning back and up, standing and easily carrying Dean back up onto the porch, kicking open the back door.

      “Hey! Take it easy he’s wounded!” Sacha didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the younger Winchester,

      “Don’t worry about him.” Sacha replied, already a good ways into the house. “Get those sigils off the back door, or it won’t matter.”

It didn’t matter _now_ , for all the healing the Angel had been doing, Dean was still looking pretty rough. It looked to Sacha, after he’d descended into the basement and into the safehouse and ripped Dean’s shirt open to survey the damage, that Castiel had merely been slowing bloodflow, healing broken blood vessels, stopping Dean from hemorrhaging.

Sophie, bless her, knew that hunters in the area could drop in at any time wounded, and always kept sterilized medical supplies in the saferoom, which Sacha now used in earnest. He wasn’t a doctor by any means, but had stitched up enough men and women to know what he was doing, which he promptly did for Dean.

Time passed oddly due to his anxiety, on one hand he was focusing on patching up the infamous Dean Winchester, on the other the other Winchester was outside dismantling the Enochian sigils Sacha had worked so hard on so the Angel could get in.

The Angel…

Sacha paused in his work, snapping the thread in his teeth for what seemed like the hundredth time, and observed Dean after what seemed to be hours.

The broken ribs that made Dean cough up blood and rip out stitches were something that Sacha could do nothing about, there were three long lacerations up dean’s right arm, five across his abdomen nearly gutting the poor kid, his lip was split, his eyes swimming. Sacha had to suddenly toss the needle onto the beside table and pin Dean down to mattress for a third time as Dean’s body suddenly convulsed, the seizure loosening and ripping the stitches in his chest.

Sacha was about to yell for Sam, deciding he couldn’t wait between convulsions to stitch him up, when Dean gave a low rattling breath, an exhausted exhale, teeth stained a light pink from the blood in his mouth.

      “…C-Cas…”

      “It’s okay kid,” Sacha resumed his first aid, wrapping a bandage tightly around his wounded arm, “He’s coming.”

Dean passed out right after that, right about the time Sacha heard heavy footsteps galloping down the basement steps. He braced himself as he heard the two men bursting through the saferoom door, not glancing back as a warm presence, a presence practically vibrating with worry and concern, knelt down beside Sacha. Two fingers pressed against Dean’s temple,

      “The two of you should leave.” The voice was low, gravelly, eyes slid shut, and Sacha wordlessly complied, shooing Sam out of the room.

      “Wait, _wait_ , I want to stay –”

      “If you want to keep your eyeballs intact, you should do what he says.” Firm hands pressed into Sam’s shoulders, crusted with blood, and Sacha wanted desperately to head upstairs and wash up.

      “Get your fucking hands off of me! I want to stay with Dean!” Sam was smeared with blood as well,

      “ _Don’t._ ” Sacha barked, “Don’t push this.” Sam’s face contorted in anger, and by the time Sacha had shut the saferoom door Sam had given up his protests and was plodding up the basements steps.

      “I’m sorry…” It wasn’t until they’d arrived in the kitchen that Sam said anything, and he was slumped over the kitchen table cradling a beer in his hands while he did it.

      “For what?” Sacha knew what but hadn’t held it against him at all, “Shouting at me? Forget it, it’s fine.” Sam swallowed hard,

      “Thank you.”

      “Don’t sweat it, kiddo. I patched your Dad of a shit load of times… I was just hoping I’d never have to do the same for the both of you.” Sam’s head lifted ever so slightly, enough to lock eyes with Sacha, who had busied himself with washing his arms and hands in the kitchen sink.

      “You knew dad?”

      “Sure, it’s why Bobby sent you to me and not some other hunter kook that might, um…” Sacha paused, trying to think of an appropriate word, “React… _badly_ to you and your brother. You did let Luci out of his cage, so…”

      “…Oh.”

      “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly _excited_.” Sacha grunted, “But… I’m not crying over spilt Lilith either. How the hell were you supposed to know what would happen?” Sam merely blinked at him, “What?”

Sacha didn’t look overly scarred or bitter, unlike the other older hunters Sam had met, his thin face was lacking any kind of beard or scruff, his gray eyes were bright and didn’t have the usual bags beneath. And for knowing there was an impending apocalypse he certainly seemed uncaring, and not bothered that the cause of said apocalypse was currently drinking beer at his kitchen table.

      “You don’t seem very upset about this. Or _surprised_.” Sam was grateful for the hospitality and lack of judgment, but… over the years he’d become accustomed to someone’s ‘kindness’ meaning something else entirely more sinister.

      “I’m _not_ surprised. Shit like this doesn’t surprise me anymore, I just roll with it.” Sacha’s fingers curled around the fridge’s door handle, and he fully intended to pull it open and reach in for a beer. The loud ‘thud’ just outside the kitchen archway stopped him, and he immediately dashed out into the hall to see just what had smacked to the ground. He nearly tripped over the slumped body in the hallway, the trenchcoat wearing Malak having fallen face first to the floor, a small pool of blood forming around his nose and mouth as he tried desperately to get his breath back. “Whoa, _shit_.”

      “I… I need help.” The head lifted, tired blue eyes stared up at him, “Please.”

      “I’ll bet.” Sacha sighed at the turn his day had taken, stooping to throw an arm around the angel’s shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Sam let out a small noise of alarm in the kitchen as Sacha pulled Castiel into the room, settling him into a chair. Tentatively, Sacha rested a hand on his shoulder,

      “Cas! Are you alright?” Sam’s eyes never left Castiel’s face as he nodded,

      “Yes… healing Dean was… tiring.”

      “So…” Sacha hadn’t moved his hand, “You’re the Angel?”

      “A poor example of one, but… yes.” Castiel lifted a hand, using his thumb to wipe blood from under his nose before glancing up into Sacha’s face.

      ‘ _He doesn’t remember me_.’

      “May I have a glass of water?”

      “Yeah.” Sacha took a step backwards away from him, towards the sink, “Sure.”

He didn’t remember him. No double takes as he recognized his face, no unsure glances towards him…

…Sacha was both overjoyed and saddened by the realization that the Angel had forgotten him.

      “How’s Dean?” Sam hurriedly asked, Castiel readily accepted the cold glass of water from Sacha, as well as the moist facecloth for his nose and mouth. “Is he alright? What do we do for him now?” Castiel’s throat worked as he put the glass to his lips, tipping it back and began to swallow, not stopping until the glass was empty. Thin fingers set the tall glass down before gently rubbing the moist towel over his mouth, wiping away blood before being set on the table.

      “Dean is… fine.” Castiel shifted slightly in his seat, “I however, am not.”

      “What happened?” Sacha tried to not let too much concern into his tone, standing with a raised eyebrow,

      “We encountered the Empusae.” Castiel swallowed hard, “Upon entering the house they were trapped in, my Grace began to fade as I used it.”

      “Will it come back?” Asked Sam,

      “I think so, I think the sigils on the house drained my power. I can get it back now that I’m away from it… but I require rest.” He started as his nose suddenly began to bleed again, dripping lightly onto the dining room table, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Sacha was already using the wet cloth to wipe up the mess, before plodding to the sink, rinsing out the washcloth, and walking back to Castiel. He gently pressed it to Castiel’s nose, “Tip your head back a little, hold this in place.” Castiel’s large eyes fluttered slightly as he did what he was told,

      “Thank you.” It was slightly muffled as the wet fabric fell over his mouth, but Sacha’s heart turned in his chest, regret splashing through his features.

Sam was… puzzled. Castiel responded to the handling as if he’d known the man for some time, there was no lingering awkwardness, there was only complete trust in the Angel’s eyes. Sacha swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes nervously, making every attempt to look away from Castiel, who obediently held the fabric to his face.

      “I… I uh, have to make a call…” He actually did, but he was grateful for the escape route, looking away from Sam’s confused gaze.

He just had to get out of that room. And so he retreated up to the attic after picking up the cordless phone that he had tossed to Sam earlier, and dialed her number.

It took a few rings before the voice hit his ear,

      “ _Yello? Sophie speaking._ ” She sounded slightly breathless, but enthused, ever her cheerful self.

She could have stepped in dog shit, spilled her coffee on her lap, gotten ragged out by a disgruntled customer, nearly been disemboweled by a wraith, and been told her dog was dead, and she’d still go out of her way to make him smile. She was just like that, and he knew it wasn’t his influence on her, that was for sure.

      “Holy _shit,_ the day I’ve had.” He palmed his right eye as he heard her sigh,

      “ _Shit, you should hear where I just was. Guess who cornered me on the street?_ ”

      “The cookie monster? Sweetums? Oogy Boogie?”

      “ _Fuck. I wish. Ethel._ ”

      “Oh _crap,_ I… shit.” He growled in his throat, “I was supposed to have you call her.”

      “ _Relax. Howard is out of the picture, I just had to salt the place down and ask him to leave. He was pretty apologetic about freaking out the kid. Would you believe he’s the original owner of the house?_ ”

      “Huh.” She had a way with ghosts, if she couldn’t get them to leave willingly she had a talent for pressing their buttons enough to get to the meat of their issues, provoking them until they spilled the beans or outright left. She couldn’t handle a knife to save her life though, but that was what he was there for.

      “ _Anyway, I’m on my way home now, you can tell me about your shitty day._ ”

      “Okay… but, we have company.”

      “ _Company? What kind of company?_ ”

      “The wounded hunter kind. The Winchesters are here.” He sat at the desk, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he reached down to unlace his boots. There was silence on the other end, and Sacha frowned, “Soph?”

      “ _Dean and Sam? John’s kids?_ ” She sounded torn between excited and sad, she wasn’t a girl who was very into nostalgia, especially when it came to memories about friends of her father.

      “Yeah. I haven’t seen them since they were little, and Dean was in a bad way… you might want to stop at the market and pick up some more medical supplies, we’re gonna need it… and burgers.”

      “ _Burgers_? _Jesus, I just bought three packages for you the other day, you **couldn’t** have eaten them all already._”

      “I didn’t.”

      “ _So why_?”

      “Trust me on this. And get buns and cheese too. Over the next few days he’s gonna need as much food as he can – _gah!_ ” The phone slipped out of Sacha’s hand as he jumped, surprised at the sudden figure standing over him. It quirked its head, simply staring at him for a silent moment before moving its lips.

      “Excuse me.” The utterance was a little late, Castiel stood quietly behind, squinting his eyes in confusion at the bewildered expression on the Hunter’s face.

      “ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Sacha growled, “You scared the…” he shook his head, plucking the phone from the ground, “Sophie?”

      “ _What the hell was that? I’m deaf in one ear now._ ” She didn’t sound angry, she rarely ever did, more concerned and amused.

      “One of our ‘guests’…” Sacha ran a hand over his face, “Listen, I gotta go, I’ll see you when you get back.” There was a noise of assent on the other end of the line, and he hung up, “The next time I’m in here on the phone,” Sacha clunked the thing down on the desk loudly, “Knock first, you scared the shit out of me.”

      “My apologies…”

      “So what do you want?”

      “Sam has fallen asleep on the kitchen table, but he and his brother left their belongings in their motel.” Castiel said simply, “I need your help to get them.”

      “Oh. Can’t it wait?”

      “No, they need to check out in the morning.”

      “Can’t you do it yourself?” He wasn’t afraid of hurting the Angel’s feelings, he wasn’t looking forward to being the Angel’s taxi driver.

      “No. I can’t take myself there, and I can’t drive.” He said, almost sounded sheepish, “I’d prefer to get their things now, otherwise Dean will be very upset.”

Sacha was unsure as to why he didn’t ask any more questions, before he knew it, Sam had moved to the couch in the living room, Castiel checked on Dean, and Sacha was pulling on his coat. He was sure to bring his knife, and his gun, and when he walked out the back door towards the Impala Castiel was already sitting inside waiting for him.

Sacha remembered the car, he’d been inside it before, he’d sat in the backseat and played ‘I Spy’ with Dean for Christ’s sake… somehow, as he sat in the driver’s seat, he felt as though he was being allowed to touch something sacred, something forbidden. His hands ran over the steering wheel softly, gently, and he was careful when he turned the key in the ignition.

      “…You’re sure Dean won’t mind?”

      “Your friend has the vehicle tonight, she won’t be back for another two hours.” Castiel said amicably, “And Dean is unconscious so… no, he doesn’t mind.”

      “Oh. Okay.” He shifted the purring car into reverse, carefully maneuvering it out onto the street before shifting it into drive and pulling away from the shop. They were quiet, Sacha felt his nerves tingling at being able to drive this Impala for the first time, combined with the Angel of the Lord sitting in the passenger seat. He was tempted to turn on the radio, but knew that if Dean was anything like his father he had it set a certain way, and if he messed that up for him he’d get an earful later.

Still… beautiful car, the kid had done a great job keeping up with it.

      “This is important to you.” Castiel’s voice nearly startled him, he quickly glanced over to the man, though Sacha knew he wasn’t a man at all, to find him on the verge of grinning at him.

      “Dunno what you mean.” He did know, just didn’t want to think about it.

      “Driving the Impala. The Baby.”

      “‘The Baby’?” Sacha wondered aloud, not really curious, just confused as to how Castiel referred to the car.

      “Baby, that’s what Dean calls it. I find the term of affection appropriate considering that he takes very good care of her… it.”

      “Oh. I gotcha…” he swallowed hard, easing his foot onto the brake at a stoplight. The red light cast itself over the car eerily in the darkening evening air, lighting Castiel’s face,

      “You’ll be taking a right.”

      “Okay.” Sacha turned his directional on, sighing slightly.

He should just come out and say something, _anything_ , it was obvious that something was on his mind. Castiel didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t want to pry, folding his hands easily in his lap, eyes darting around to take in their surroundings. There was something disturbingly… _human_ in his gaze, something Sacha didn’t recall, and he wasn’t sure if he should be excited to see it or concerned.

The light turned green, Sacha turned, and once outside the small historic town he accelerated down the dark road. It was cool, he’d cracked the windows open just enough to get a faint breeze, the sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly above them. There were worse things to see with an angel sitting beside you, Sacha wondered how many nights Castiel had spent in that same seat with Dean driving, enjoying the silence.

When they arrived at the motel, it was quiet, no one noticed when Sacha picked the lock of Dean and Sam’s old motel room and went inside, Castiel keeping a watch while Sacha threw bags of clothes and supplies into the backseat. Then they drove off, the job done, and Sacha let out a shaky breath of relief that his task was almost done.

They were about thirty minutes outside of town, not a house or streetlight in sight, by the time Sacha found his voice again.

      “How do you know Dean, exactly?”

      “I raised him from Perdition. And I rebelled against heaven to help stop Sam from killing Lilith.”

Castiel was jerked violently in his seat as Sacha slammed his foot on the brake, nearly smashing his face on the dashboard, the seatbelt nearly crushing his windpipe. He was dazed for a moment, confused as to why there was a near palpable flare up of rage and anguish in the seat beside him. Sacha’s face, calm a moment ago, was now contorted in fury and disappointment,

      “You _rebelled_.” He nearly spat, lips quivering in the light from the headlights. “ _You **fell**_.”

Castiel was further confounded when Sacha unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved the car door open, standing out of the Impala and onto the empty back road, slamming the door shut in a rage before striding to the back of the car, out of sight.

Castiel allowed himself a moment of silent confusion before annoyance and frustration took hold, and he grunted while exiting the car,

      “I don’t understand.” He stood a few feet away from Sacha, who now leaned against the Impala’s trunk,

      “Go back in the car, I just need… a minute.” He was hunched over, and while his voice was soft it held a deep and dangerous tone. It tickled Castiel’s memory, but he didn’t step away,

      “No. I won’t. Not until you tell me what I’ve done.” He watched Sacha shake his head ruefully, a silent sigh heaving his shoulders, disappointment flowing off of him in staggering waves, and for some reason Castiel felt shame,

      “Don’t. Not now.”

      “I don’t understand why you’re angry. I’m stopping something that could destroy billions of human lives. Shouldn’t you be glad I’m helping?”

      “Because you’re being an _idiot_. You’re not thinking things through, you’re putting yourself in danger.”

      “Don’t lecture me!” Castiel’s tone sharpened, “After thousands of years leading a garrison in Heaven, watching this world spin out of control and losing my brothers and sisters at every turn, _this is bigger than me_.”

      “It’s not so big that I can’t see you falling so far because of _one human man._ ” Sacha’s eyes narrowed, lips pulled back as Castiel’s gaze averted away. “The man who _started all of this_. And you _fell_ , **_for him_**.” The words seemed to carry a deeper meaning for Castiel, he flinched visibly and turned away.

Oh… _Oh_.

      “My choice was my own, and I can’t make you understand.” He was angry, “I don’t _need to._ ”

      “But I _do_ understand,and I can’t guarantee it’s a mistake, you’re throwing yourself away.”

      “I don’t expect you to listen, and it has nothing to do with _you_.”

Castiel had no time to prepare for what came next, no time to take a step back away from the man now invading his space, no time to guard himself against the angry words being thrown at him

      “ ** _It has everything to do with me!_ _EVERYTHING_.** ” He was there, shouting, _roaring_ in fury, “ _Look at me! **Look at me!**_ ” Castiel was being shaken, thin fingers digging into his upper arms, desperation and anger apparent on the man’s face, “ _How can you not see it? **How can you not recognize me?! Even after all this time, you should still know me! After all the time I spent trying to keep you safe, after all we’ve been through?! I was lost without you!**_ ”

Confusion was still apparent on Castiel’s face, his eyes wide with shock, but he hadn’t pushed Sacha away, and he watched the sudden burst of rage fade in the man’s eyes, the fingers gripping his arms loosened and fell away. Sacha fell limply back against the car, and after taking a low and calming breath, he leaned his head back, staring up at the stars,

      “I’m sorry. But…” Castiel shook his head, “I don’t know you.”

      “Yes.” Sacha’s eyes were flooded with unshed tears when he looked back at Castiel, “You _do_.”

      “I don’t… understand.” Sacha felt the Angel prod his mind, knew he’d find nothing but a fog, a low hum that hid his thoughts, and Castiel’s face twisted with further concern.

      “I know… Do you remember,” Sacha’s hands were trembling, “When we stood on the shore?” Castiel blinked, “When the mudfish flopped out onto the sand. Do you remember what Gabe said?”

Understanding bloomed in Castiel’s features, wide eyes went wider.

      “Yes.” It was a choked sound from his throat,

      “ ‘Don’t step on the fish Castiel. I have big plans for that fish.’ I-It was just him and us on that beach -”

            “ _Sachiel_.”


End file.
